Second Son
by SometimeLonely
Summary: Odin is the father he always should have been to his sons. Loki was raised as the much cherished second prince of Asgard, loved by none more than his family. When he falls ill, Thor will stop at nothing to find the cure. Though it was forbidden long ago he travels to Midgard in his search. Midgard, where a certain Captain has just been awoken from his 70 year sleep in the ice.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Thor, Captain America, or The Avengers. I make no profit from this piece of my imagination.**

**Author's Note: This is a second try at a story I already posted. As I re-read I was appalled at the low quality of my own writing. As I haven't written anything in two years I decided to give myself a pass and try again. This might move a little slower this time, but I like it better and I think it's the better back story. The next chapter should be Loki discovering about who he is.**

**Steve will not be coming into the story for quite a while. I want to establish Loki's place as the cherished second prince of Asgard pretty thoroughly first.**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed the first try. I hope you like this as well or better. :) **

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><p>Odin, called the Allfather, has ever appreciated the early mornings in Asgard. Save for a few memorable occasions when he and his lady spent the night previous and the morning after indulging themselves in a hedonistic marathon of sorts he has never been one to lie abed well into the day. There is always too much to accomplish, too much to see done or begun. Perhaps it is because of this that the time before Asgard awakes, just before the sun peeks over the horizon, has ever been a favorite of his. It feels peaceful before the problems of the realm, and indeed all nine of the realms, can be brought to his attention. It is the only time he can be, first and foremost, a husband and a father. He smiles softly thinking of his wife lying in their bed, long hair flowing out around her like a river of softened gold, a small smile on her face as she dreams pleasant things, just a few creases in her beautiful facade. Numbering just enough to display her love of laughter on her face. He thinks that he wouldn't mind if there were more. They are not as young as they once were, after all, and there is beauty to be found in the marks that give away age. To him it simply shows the universe that his wife is a mighty warrior in her own right, a shield maiden of Asgard capable of keeping herself alive these many years through her strength, wisdom, and magic.<p>

He often envies Frigga her capability with magic. It is something that he has never had an aptitude in. There is an innate power in him given by virtue of the fact that he is the Allfather. It is a magic passed down from father to son just as the rule of Asgard is passed. It allows him to nearly any and all powers needed to protect and preserve the realm, and the inner wisdom to know when to use them, but he has no real control over them. He can never say, if asked after the fact, what he has done. Somehow his words become power and as that power flows through him it works in ways he doesn't understand to become exactly what he needs. With Frigga it is different. She controls every aspect of her magic, down to the most nominal detail. Her copies are exact, so much so that even he can't tell the difference. The beautiful little entertainments she and Loki make together at almost every evening feast as their younger sits on her lap happily are absolutely exquisite. He often wishes they were solid just to study them closer.

Loki. His thoughts turn to his youngest and he turns swiftly, leaving the private balcony off of the chambers he shares with his queen, suddenly needing to see his youngest for himself. It has ever been a fear of his, hidden so deep in his heart that he cannot express it, even to Frigga, that some day he will wake to find Loki gone. That somehow Laufey will have come in the night to steal back that which Odin saved from death. He enters Loki's room silently as the dawn and makes his way to the large bed. His youngest looks so small and pale against the dark green sheets. Loki is curled up on his side, his arms and legs pulled in tight, and his face is peaceful, sweet and impossibly young in his sleep. The knot in Odin's gut loosens. His son is exactly where he should be, safe, protected, and taken care of. He cannot help himself. He lies on the bed and studies the features of that which he claimed as his own.

When Thor was born his birth was somewhat overshadowed by the grief of losing Gaia to childbirth. As much as Odin loved his eldest from the moment he took his first breath he cannot help but see his first wife whenever he looks at him. He and Gaia had too little time together, and they'd always known that she was fragile, but the healers had thought her strong enough for one child. He cannot regret that she insisted on carrying and birthing Thor. Thor is everything he ever thought he wanted in a son. Thor is bright and strong, willful and golden as Gaia was. He looks just like her with his ice blue eyes and his spun gold hair. He loves Thor more than anything and he would have liked to have seen Gaia raise him. But, Fate often has a way of making things as they should be and he would never trade the family he has now in Frigga, Thor, and Loki for what he and Gaia might have had. They are all everything to him, but there is an especially tender place in his heart for Loki.

The first time he laid eyes on Loki, at the height of the war with the race he had been taught to hate, his life was changed forever. Along with his heart. The battle was nearing its end, the Frost Giants were defeated but not yet willing to surrender. Laufey was unconscious and being guarded by some of his most trusted men as he searched for The Casket, the loss of which would keep the Frost Giants at bay and return peace to the nine realms. As he was making his way back to the great doors, the Casket in his hands, victory assured, he heard it. The small cry of a newborn babe. Not strong and lusty like Thor's were just after his birth, but fragile, weak…pathetic almost. He considered moving on, but found that he could not leave the babe to suffer if there was something he could do to put it out of it's misery. He strode up to the pile of furs thrown carelessly on a jagged ice table and froze. The baby was small, much smaller than it should have been, and obviously neglected. Just days old and already it looked as if it was starving. He didn't know what staid the hand resting on his sword, but he removed it from his hilt and let it drift to the babe closer to death than to life.

He touched the navy blue skin, surprised when it didn't burn his hand, and the child stopped crying. Odin looked on in absolute amazement as the skin under his hand began to pink and warm until it covered the little body and even the bright red eyes burned into an emerald green. The babe, tired and weak as it was, smiled at him and attempted to coo. Odin felt his breath catch and his heart stutter in his chest. When his men came into the room he handed over the Casket without thinking so that he could sweep the infant into his arms, furs and all. First he unwrapped the babe, checking the biology, to find the infant was male. Then, he tucked the furs around the small body once more, tightly, to keep him warm, and gave into the urge that had possessed him. He kissed and nuzzled the boy's temple.

"It's alright now, little one," He whispered, "My little…Loki."

He called an end to the battle, to the war, despite his warriors' protests. Laufey was defeated, the Frost Giants' power stripped with the loss of the Casket and the destruction of their inter-world portal. He would not destroy an entire race for the actions of their leader and a select few. And Loki was the most important thing at the time. He knew the child was just hours away from death and he could not allow that to happen. So he brought Loki home to his new wife and to his bright son. Frigga fell in love with him on sight and swept him away. He didn't see his wife or Loki again for three days. On the dawn of the forth Frigga carried a much improved Loki into their bedchamber and sat on her chaise to look out at the rising sun, Loki sleeping peacefully on her chest. He walked over to them slowly, not wanting to break the spell, and sat on the edge of the chaise. Frigga looked over at him, tears in her eyes, and set a hand to his cheek.

"Thank you, my love," she said quietly, "For this gift."

"A gift to all of us," He responded, just as gently, "To complete our family."

She handed the baby to him and he stood, carrying Loki out onto their balcony and into the warming sun. Loki wrinkled his little nose and turned his face trustingly into Odin's chest and for only the second time in all his long life Odin fell completely, irrevocably in love with someone.

The love has only grown in the years since and as he looks at his younger, safe and warm and at peace in his sleep his heart settles into place once more. He loved Gaia, he loves Frigga, but nothing can compare to the love he feels for his boys. He gently runs a finger down Loki's pale face and smiles when his son comes awake immediately, his eyes still sleepy, but aware.

"Father?" He whispers around a yawn, "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing, dear one," He assures Loki, "Go back to sleep. It is not yet time to be about."

Loki closes his eyes, trusting his father implicitly, and somehow manages to make his way into Odin's arms without having looked like he moved at all. Odin closes his eye and smiles against the dark hair. Every now and again, he thinks, perhaps it is acceptable to lounge a bit in bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**All Previous Disclaimers Apply.**

**Author's Note: I'm not sure how I feel about this OC and the back story I've created, but I hope that it'll give Loki even more support as he grows since that is something that he is seriously in need of in cannon.**

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><p>Frigga, Queen of Asgard, wife of Odin and mother of Thor and Loki, is never anything but poised and gracious, especially when attending to state matters, but there are times when her most fervent wish is that she can be. She rolls her eyes and shifts her weight as yet another round of posturing begins between the diplomats of Asgard and the diplomats sent from Jotunheim. It is a major step that there is a delegation that agreed to meet in The Citadel at all, but if these testosterone driven men of both races don't put aside the past and their pride she is afraid that they are never going to get anywhere. They may, in fact, begin the war anew. It is only when she hears the frustrated, long suffering sigh that she's been longing to release from across the room and her eyes meet with the Jotun Queen's that she finally feels comfortable enough to take control from the politicians.<p>

Odin has trusted her with these careful negotiations, knowing that she is the more diplomatic of the two of them. They are partners in all things and they play to their strengths. It is not a strength to present a delegation meant for peace with the man who personally defeated their race in a war that spanned five hundred years. The Jotun's nearly refused the talks when they requested that the current monarch attend to speak with Frigga, but, they were informed, N'Daia is the most progressive queen that has ever ruled over the Jotun people and she personally accepted the invitation to the talks. Frigga is glad now that she did.

"Gentlemen," she says with all of the steel in her voice that helped her become not only the chief magician and queen of Asgard, but also a celebrated shield maiden before she earned either of the other titles, "That will be quite enough, I think. Your services will no longer be required. Queen N'Daia and I can handle things from here."

"Majesty!"

"Queen Frigga!"

"Lady Queen!"

The protests are not unexpected, from either side, and all the men are on their feet and angry so quickly that she almost smiles. Queen N'Daia is not so controlled and allows an inelegant snort of laughter loose. Frigga allows her lips to curve up slightly before holding up her hand for silence.

"My Lady Queen?" She arches an eyebrow at the Jotun queen at the other end of the table, so different from herself and yet so similar in goal for her people.

"I agree to the terms set by Lady Asgard," N'Daia's smile is almost predatory, her Asgardian heavily accented, "No more male posturing. Out. Now."

"I perhaps would have been a little more diplomatic in my dismissal of the men," Frigga says quietly as the door slams behind the angry diplomats of both races.

"Your people cater to the males of your race more than mine ever have," N'Daia returns as both women stand. Frigga leads the way to a small table on the veranda, big enough that they don't feel crowded and small enough to still feel intimate. N'Daia sits comfortably in the light snow that is falling and Frigga's handmaiden appears as if from nowhere with the queen's light winter cloak, the one with the bilgeschnipe fur on the collar from Thor's first kill. She fingers it for just a moment, remembering, before turning back to N'Daia and smiling. She takes a moment to consider the Jotun queen. Like her own son, N'Daia seems small for her race, barely taller than Frigga herself. Even in the chill winter air she is barely covered by skins, the dark markings of her race are prominent and proudly displayed. Her feet are bare and she should seem savage, but there is something about the way she carries herself that speaks to nobility, royalty. It is impossible to tell the age of a Jotun. The Aesir do not know the things that mark age on the Jotun people and it has long since been considered rude to ask. But, she seems to be as old as Frigga as far as she can tell. Perhaps a little older. Her blood red eyes are intense and focused, but not near insanity like so many others of her race that Frigga has seen. Frigga allows herself a small laugh, feeling more comfortable than perhaps she should.

"Perhaps you're right. We do tend to cater to our males perhaps more than we should. Their egos are fragile and when they are inflated our men tend to do what we lead them to do without complaint." She shrugs delicately and accepts the warm mead her handmaiden offers her. N'Daia accepts the same.

"Life is harsher in my realm," She says carefully after a sip.

"I've no doubt," Frigga agrees, "There has ever been tension between our people and I must believe that part of the reasoning is that we simply do not understand each other."

"That and Laufey," N'Daia says the name as if it leaves a bad taste in her mouth, "We are as long lived as you, Lady Asgard, and it has been too many years to count since Laufey, traitorous general to my father, took power. We are not a naturally war-minded race. Under my father we were content. Life has always been hard on Jotunheim, but the people helped each other and we were at peace with the other realms."

"I remember," Frigga can smile at the memory, "When I was a little girl one of my favorite friends was the Jotun ambassador's son. His mother was the last Jotun female I remember seeing in a position of power."

"Another of Laufey's changes. Jotun women were considered equal in all things until he came to power. With his death we are now taking back that power."

"As it should be," Frigga smiles with her eyes and raises her glass. She is surprised when N'Daia lifts her glass as well. They take a sip at the same time and Frigga considers her words carefully before she speaks again, "My husband king understands that much of the animosity between our peoples and the greatest cause of the bloodiest war in our histories was Laufey. But, there has been too much blood, too many deaths, and too much hate between us to simply accept that your people are ready for a complete truce."

"We say the same," N'Daia's eyes are hard now, "Your husband king invaded our realm, cut us off from the other realms, and stole our greatest treasure. He is still called _Rochten_ among our people. It means baby killer…for all of the generations of children that he prevented being born by the Jotun men he killed. How could we ever trust…"

"Mother…" The voice, soft as a dove's coo, interrupts the tirade, and cuts the tension. Frigga turns to the door, where her youngest is peaking so that just his eyes are visible.

"Loki," Frigga motions him out, "Please excuse me a moment, Lady Jotun." She turns to her son when he walks slowly toward the table. She sighs softly to see the glassy surface of his eyes, the color high in his cheeks in an otherwise pale face.

"I'm sorry, Mother," he says quietly, "Father and Thor are training and…"

"No apology, young prince." N'Daia's strained voice is a surprise to both Frigga and her son, "Comfort always comes best from a mother. You are not feeling well?"

Loki looks over at N'Daia curiously. There is no fear in his eyes and for that Frigga is grateful, "Loki, use your manners, my love, and greet the lady queen of Jotunheim, Lady N'Daia."

"Your majesty," Loki bows slightly and nearly topples over with dizziness. Frigga takes him by his elbows and lifts him into her lap to rock him gently.

"Oh, my dearest," She sighs. After Odin rescued Loki and they brought him back to health there was a time of good health for him, but in the recent years he has been ill more often than not. At first it was just slight fevers that tired him. Now the fevers come with dizzy spells and fainting. His appetite is off and his thin frame cannot afford to lose any weight as it is. She has never fretted after anything the way she frets after Loki's health.

"Sleep," N'Daia whispers in her own language, one of the few words Frigga recognizes, and Loki slackens in her arms. Frigga fights down terror and anger as her hand moves swiftly to the dagger at her waist.

"What are you doing?" She asks tightly.

"Your boy is Jotun," N'Daia accuses, "Is he another stolen relic your husband brought home to you? Meant to force us into peace?"

Frigga allows her voice to go to the ice she knows frightens, "If you ever suggest such a thing again I will kill you where you stand and lead the war party to Jotunheim myself. My husband found our son in Laufey's palace during the last battle. He was just days old and nearly dead of neglect. My Odin fell in love with him in that instant and brought him home to me to nurse back to health. We have ever loved him as our own and despite what you may think he is no bargaining tool. He is our son."

"And my grandson," N'Daia whispers.

"What?" Frigga balks and tightens her hold on Loki so as not to drop him.

"When the war with Asgard reached its peak the people were turning against Laufey. We'd had enough of his war mongering and we were tired of losing all of our young men. To keep the people in line Laufey arranged a marriage between himself and a member of the old royal family. My daughter. He forced her away from her father and I, married her against her will, and raped her. We were planning an attack to rescue her and kill Laufey when Odin attacked our realm. I never knew she'd given birth, but see here, Lady Asgard."

N'Daia reaches out and touches a finger to Loki's cheek. The navy blue of a Jotun begins to spread across Loki's skin and Frigga watches in fascination. She's never seen Loki in his natural state as Odin had. Her boy's beautiful elfin features are all there and the dark markings that spread across the navy blue skin are absolutely breathtaking.

"This marking here," N'Daia pulls the shoulder strap of her minimal clothing down, "Is shared my members of the same direct family. The family with the stronger blood is the marking that shows in a child."

Frigga eyes the swirling mark on N'Daia's shoulder and takes a deep breath before she moves aside Loki's tunic. The markings are the same and Frigga feels the air go out of her lungs in a rush. She covers the marking again and holds Loki even closer, not conscious of the slight burn to her skin where she pressing it against Loki's bare forehead.

"Just a warning, Queen Jotun," She says as quietly with as much conviction as she has in her body, "We will go to war over our son. He may be your family by blood but he is ours by love and we will do whatever it takes to keep him safe with us."

"I could not take him now," N'Daia sounds like her heart is breaking, "I am not Laufey. I could not take a child from a family he loves like my daughter was taken from me. And I now have the answer to the question I wanted to ask you, Frigga."

Frigga balks at the familiarity, but chooses not to take offence. She is still tense, but relaxes slightly when she thinks about N'Daia's words about never taking a child from the family he loves. She believes her after hearing what Laufey did to her daughter. Surely, she will never let her grandson suffer in such a similar fashion.

"What was that question, N'Daia?"

"How could I ever trust Odin? How could my people?"

"And the answer?"

"I can't trust the Odin my people call _Rochten_. But, I can trust the man who saved my grandson and would go to war to keep him. Out of love. We will learn to co-exist, Frigga Queen, if only for the sake of one we both love so dearly. We will negotiate."

Frigga releases the breath she didn't even know she was holding, "I am glad to hear you say it, Lady N'Daia. I should not admit it, but Loki is the entire reason Odin and I decided to open talks to Jotunheim again once news of Laufey's death reached us. His health…"

"You are treating him as if he is Asgardian." N'Daia says confidently, "He is not. He is small for a Jotun which means he is powerful in magic. Another of Laufey's faults is that he had no respect for magic and those who use it. Jotun born small are the most powerful of us all."

"Like yourself," Frigga raises her eyebrow elegantly.

"Like myself," N'Daia is in her element now and her confidence and ease with the subject is apparent, "It is why he takes and holds the look of the Aesir. He does not even realize he does it yet he holds the spell constantly. But, just because he looks like you doesn't mean he is one of you. Even now, in this, your winter, it is warm for him, for our kind."

"He is in a constant state of sun fever?" Frigga asks, coming to the realization herself.

"Very near it," N'Daia confirms, "He does not know to control his inner temperature to keep himself healthy because he does not know he has to." She looks up at Frigga and for a moment Frigga sees the same love for Loki she has ever seen in Odin's eyes, in Thor's eyes. Everything they know about the Jotun people is wrong, all assumptions made based on the things they learned from Laufey's actions. N'Daia loved her daughter more than anything and due to this she will love Loki in the same way. Frigga can tell when N'Daia is feeling exposed because the Jotun woman looks down before stroking a hand over Loki's soft black hair.

"He looks so like my Kytlai. She would have loved to meet him. His magic is strong, Frigga, and he will have magic that no Aesir has ever seen. He will need to be trained on Jotunheim for a time when he is older. I would like him to know his heritage."

"We want that for him as well, N'Daia. It may take some time for attitudes to change, but once they have we intend to tell our people, and Loki, about his true parentage. He deserves to know how rich his history is, how much he is loved in both realms."

"Until that time I will manipulate his magic to ensure his continued health."

N'Daia whispers words in the language that Frigga does not understand and she sighs happily when she feels Loki's fever begin to lower and his breathing even out when she hadn't even realized that it was off. When she looks back down at him his skin has returned to the pale pink she recognizes and he is sleeping more peacefully than he has in a long time.

"You will work on this end and I will work tirelessly on mine," N'Daia says and Frigga makes a small sound of gentle agreement from the back of her throat.

They will make it work. For the life and sanity of the one she is holding in her arms, one of the two children she has taken as her own, they must.


	3. Chapter 3

All Previous Disclaimers Apply.

A/N: Sorry for the delay. Real life gets in the way. Thank you to those who are still willing to read. :)

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><p>Odin awakens with the absolute certainty that something is wrong. He sits up in the bed he shares with his wife, his heart feeling as though it is pounding in his throat, and panic rising hot and fast in his mind. It has been years since he has felt such fear as this, he has perhaps not felt such panic since his father was cut down in battle and he became a king and the All-Father in a single instant. The rush of power into his body on the battlefield, the sudden knowledge of so many souls in all the nine realms becoming his responsibility in just the span of a breath, had nearly driven him to a knee, so certain he was that he was losing his mind. It was the last time he can remember feeling so frighteningly overwhelmed. He puts his bare feet to the floor and the coolness of the grand tiles against his skin gives him grounding in something other than his panic and he is able to think again.<p>

The panic is not his own. It is the first thing he realizes when the fist in his chest has loosened enough for him to breathe again. Once again the powers of the All Father surprise him. He has ever known how his wife is feeling and her mental state, but that is due more to her magic than his own. His Thor is an open book, everything he is feeling is written on his face. He is also as Odin himself was at his age, a creature of simple habits and wants. As much as Odin loves him to claim that Thor is a complex child would be doing him a disservice. He is simple in the best possible way, not hard to please, and does not think about matters long enough after they have occurred to allow them to worry him. Given this, and the fact that Frigga sleeps beside him, seemingly quietly, it does not take him long to come to the conclusion that the panic he is feeling in his mind belongs to Loki.

No sooner has the thought crossed his mind than Frigga sits up with a gasp, their younger son's name on her lips.

"He is in the vault," is the only thing she must say before they are both out of the bed and on their way, their hands linked and their hearts pounding in synch. They have known this day was approaching. On the day Odin announced that the Casket would be returned to the Jotun royal family he took Loki and Thor into the vault, telling them of the great and terrible war, of the king who put his own selfish ambitions before his people, and who was subsequently defeated because of it. He told them of a millennia of hate between their peoples and how they'd begun to heal the hate after Laufey's death. Odin knows that Loki felt the draw to the Casket. He saw it in his eyes and he felt it in the tension of the small body next to his. All Jotun are drawn to the Casket. He managed to keep Loki from touching it in Thor's presence, but he knew he would not be able to keep him from it once he saw it. And now he has found it. When he is alone in the middle of the night.

They reach the vault just as Loki is tearing out of it as if the hounds of Hel are at his back. It is the first time Odin has seen Loki's Jotun form since he found him as a babe. He studies his son, even as he opens his arms to catch him in his flight. The navy skin, etched with the lines of his people, the royal family, and the bright red eyes suit him just as the pale, pale skin and sharp green eyes suit him. He is still tall for his age for an Aesir, small for a Jotun, and cord thin with the angular features that will make potential partners sigh over him as he ages. There are tears streaming from his eyes as he struggles against Odin's arms.

"Let me go!" He demands, his voice high and clear as it has always been.

"No, my Loki," Odin murmurs, bending over his child and setting his cheek to the dark hair. Frigga steps into place behind Loki and presses herself to his back so that they are surrounding him.

"What am I?" Loki's scream dissolves into a sob as his knees finally give. Frigga and Odin let their bodies go with his and keep him in between them as he sobs, his thin form shaking as if it will break with the force of his emotions. Even as he sobs he struggles to free himself from them. Odin tightens his arms around his son and feels his wife do the same, keeping Loki safely between them until finally his struggles cease. He falls limp and the frame they make with their arms is the only thing keeping him upright, but his sobs do not cease. Frigga begins to sing quietly, the same melody that she has sung to both of their boys since they were very young, as they weather the storm of Loki's emotions. He has ever been so, keeping his emotions locked away until the release of them is like a hurricane force. Odin knows it is not only this discovery that Loki is releasing now and he wishes that his son trusted him as implicitly has he had as a young boy so that his hurts would not gather so, but he has lived long enough to know that all young men face a time in their lives when they do not tell their fathers their troubles. The best course of action now is to let the phase run its course as it must and build Loki up again when he falls apart.

Loki's sobs eventually slow to hitching breaths. When he is finally calm enough to listen Frigga tells Loki softly, "You are our son."

"I am Jotun!" Loki screams, his voice beginning to sound panicked again as his emotions come back to the surface. He stiffens in their arms and Odin knows that he will try to flee again. Before he can Frigga murmurs softly into his hair and Odin feels some of the tension leave Loki's body. Frigga has placed a small calming charm on their son and Odin cannot feel anything but grateful. If Loki is not clam enough to listen to them they will never make him understand. He turns his attention back to Loki and presses a kiss to the navy blue forehead, ignoring the slight burn to his lips from the cool of Loki's skin.

"Yes," Odin agrees, murmuring against Loki's skin and touching two fingers to his chin. The pink begins to come back into his skin as Odin turns his youngest's face to him, "You are Jotun by birth, my son. The day I found you in the Jotun palace, abandoned, left to die, was the day the war ended. I could no more leave you there than I could have left Thor. The moment I saw you I felt something that I had never felt before. An overwhelming love. For something so alien to me. A Jotun child. My enemy. And the only thing I could think as you ceased crying in my arms and looked up at me with eyes much too intelligent for a babe was that I loved you. It was the same way I loved Thor the moment he was born. Completely. You were intended for us, Loki, whether you were born from us or not." He looks into Frigga's eyes over Loki's head and can see the battle in them, just as he sees when she makes her decision.

"When I married your father, Loki," She begins quietly, "It was the hardest decision I'd ever made. Loving him was easy. Leaving my home on Vanaheim was not. Coming to Asgard was…difficult to say the least. It took many years before this place felt like home and the people accepted me as their queen. I got the idea in my head that if I could produce a child, a royal babe for the people to love, they would accept me. The idea became an obsession and as much as I loved Thor, as much as I have always loved him, I could not shake free of it," Frigga pulls Loki further into her arms, onto her lap, and rocks him as she had when he was younger and nightmares brought him out of his quiet sleep, "As the years passed with no child I began to be lost to my depression, feeling I had failed my king and our family. Thor could sense my unhappiness and in his baby sweetness was a constant reminder of all that was good, but it wasn't until the day your father rode his horse all the way into the palace and placed you in my arms that I felt complete. For three days I watched your struggle for life. You needed me more than anyone or anything ever had before. In those three days I became your mother and I came to realize that I did not need the approval of the people to fulfill my place and duties as a queen, a wife and a mother. I only needed the love of my husband, my Thor, and my Loki. It is you, my love, who made us a family complete and whole. It has always been you. Nothing ever has, or ever will, change our love for you."

"Why have you not told me before now?" Loki asks quietly, allowing his mother to hold him close, as he has not for many years and slipping his hand into Odin's, needing the comfort and grounding.

"Our love for you could not change a thousand years of hatred overnight, Loki. We do not wish for you to hide away who you are, dearest, but we needed to make certain that it would be safe for your true heritage to be revealed. The lady queen N'Daia has been working tirelessly on Jotunheim to heal the hatred as we have worked here."

"And now, Mother," his voice is small and childlike, "Now is it safe?"

"Yes, my Loki," Odin answers for her, tightening his grip on his son's hand, "When you are comfortable, my son, we will reveal your true heritage. But, never doubt whose son you are."

The smile on Loki's face is tremulous, but true as he presses his forehead to Odin's hand. They bring him into their bed that night, knowing that he needs the comfort of sleeping between them, the reassurance of their love. Odin awakes in the morning, Frigga pressed against his chest as she watches both of their sons, oblivious to their wakened parents. They are sitting on her chaise, Loki's skin blue and his eyes red, Thor bright and golden as the sun, so obviously brothers despite their differences. And they are laughing together as they always have as Thor tests how long he can keep his palm pressed against Loki's. As they tease and bicker as brothers should Odin presses a kiss Frigga's neck and knows there has never been a happier man.


	4. Chapter 4

All Previous Disclaimers Apply.

Author's Note: So sorry about the delay. I'm hoping to have more out soon, but I can't make any promises. But, this is not the end as much as it seems it might be. We still have to get to Steve, after all. And yes, to answer a question put to me, the rest of The Avengers will be making an appearance. Thanks for hanging in!

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><p>"Brother!" Thor feels no shame or embarrassment at the way his large voice booms and echoes in the open, circular room as his brother, so long away from him, walks gracefully off of the Bifrost , home at last. Thor cannot believe his eyes and feels his breath catch in his chest with unexpected emotion. Gone is the gawky youth, all knees and elbows and entirely too intelligent eye, that Loki was when he left with his maternal grandmother to learn the ways of Jotun magic. Before him stands a man, confident and grown into himself. Loki will ever be built in a more slight form than Thor himself, but woe to any who would underestimate him. Thor can see how much power and control there is in that slim form. There is danger and death in Loki's grace and Thor finds that he can breathe again as his chest swells with pride. Gone is the questioning boy who would stand behind and allow Thor the lead every time, always second guessing himself. No, in Loki Thor now sees the confidence of a Prince of The Realm in his strong eyes, the strength of a king in the way the head is held so high and the shoulders so squared. No, Loki will not step behind now. He will take control of the situations he can, make his opinion know in those that are not his to control. And they will both be better for it, Thor knows. These fifty years without his brother by his side have taught him just how much he still has to learn. In many ways, Loki may have surpassed him. Then, Loki looks at him. And just there…the mischievous quirk of the eyebrow, the simple tug upwards in the corner of the mouth…there is his proof that the man before him is his brother still.<p>

For a moment Thor fears that perhaps Loki's affections toward him have changed in his time away as Loki holds himself away and stiff instead of coming into Thor's offered embrace. But then, the Lady Queen of Jotunheim steps through the Bifrost as well and Thor understand as he drops his arms and makes a hasty, ungraceful bow to Queen N'Daia. He hadn't realized that Queen N'Daia would be accompanying her grandson on his return journey, but now he wonders if perhaps his mother and father did, as they forbade all but himself to welcome Loki home. Loki holds his hand out in a courtly manner to escort his grandmother and she gives an inelegant snort and bats his hand away before nodding to Thor. That seems to break Loki's formality and as fast as he can move he has crossed the room to accept and return Thor's embrace.

The embrace is long and hearty and Thor gets his first real, physical indication of how much Loki has grown. When he left Thor could still tuck him under his chin when they embraced. Now their eyes nearly meet. Loki's hair has grown long but Thor is inordinately pleased to see the raven tresses plaited in the familiar, traditional Asgardian warriors style that most adopt before going into battle. He stills smells of sharp spice and freshly fallen snow. Feeling him in his arms, Thor is acutely aware of just how much he has missed his brother these fifty years he has been away. He feels as if a piece of his heart has returned with the homecoming of the young man who is confidante, brother, and best friend all in one.

"You have grown mightily, my brother!" Thor pulls back only as far as allows him to place both hands on his brother's shoulders and meet his eyes, "Never again are you to be away for so very long! I hardly recognize you. A great feast is to be held this night in honor of your return. Mother has spent day and night preparing for it. Father had secreted himself away for many days saying only that he prepares a gift for your return. Why so silent, brother? Has the Silvertongue been silenced? Will you not speak with me?"

"When have you given me a moments breath to do so, brother?" Loki's voice is deeper and smoother than it was, but the humor in it, the clever tone, remain the same as they ever were and Thor laughs heartily before pressing a firm kiss to Loki's temple and embracing him again.

"I have missed you, brother," Loki says quietly and Thor can feel him gripping his cape.

He clasps him all the tighter and responds, "And I you." He knows intellectually that Loki's time on Jotunheim, learning to use and control magics that no Aesir can dream of was necessary, but his heart has ever rebelled so far from him this half century. He feels more glad and settled than he has since the day he and their parents sent Loki off.

"Come!" he says loudly after a moment, clapping a hand on Loki's shoulder, "Let us away to your celebration feast."

He offers his arm to Her Majesty N'Daia and grins when she accepts it as Loki speaks quietly to Heimdal for a moment. The ride on the Bifrost is filled with pleasant, light talk of Loki's years of training before they reach the borders of the city. Then, the talking stops to be replaced by the happy surprise on Loki's face as their people greet him and welcome him home as they ride through the city and toward The Citadel. Women and children tuck flowers and bright slips of cloth anywhere they can reach on his clothing and his steed's tack. One particularly brave little girl demands that her father lift her above his head so that she can place a wreath of flowers on Loki's brow and press a sweet kiss to his cheek. The men salute their princes in Asgardian style as they pass. With the acceptance, love, and full support of the royal family the Asgardian people had accepted the truth of Loki's heritage by and far extremely well. But, Thor could always see that Loki heard the voices of those that opposed much more readily than he heard the voices of his supporters. It is good for him to see this now, that their people missed their intelligent and much loved second prince in his absence.

Loki, after his initial shock, waves and is generally charming, letting children ride with him a little ways before handing them back down to their parents, accepting small gifts from the young men and women of courting age. As a second son he is going to be free to choose his own love as Thor may not be able to. Now that he has come of courting age there will be many who try to catch his eye. He performs little tricks and illusions as they ride, impressing and delighting those than surround them. Thor, for the most part, simply watches the joy on Loki's face and the pride and happiness on Queen N'Daia's. He comes to the realization, when they are nearly to The Citadel, that N'Daia travelled with Loki because she wanted to make certain for herself that Loki would be safe after so long away from Asgard when he'd left so soon after revealing his heritage. Thor is glad that they are going to be able to put her mind at rest. The people of Asgard change slowly, but they do change. Loki is beloved as a second price, but also as himself. Looking at Loki he is heartened to see that, perhaps, Loki is realizing it as well.

Thor can see the radiant excitement on their mother's face reflected on Loki's as they approach the steps of The Citadel. Loki dismounts in a flash and there is only the sweeping of his cape as he takes the steps two at a time to throw himself into Frigga's open arms. Thor can see the delighted surprise on Frigga's face when Loki can pull her in and tuck her under his chin. Thor is more sedate as he escorts Lady N'Daia from her mount and up the stairs, giving his mother and brother their moment to reunite.

"Oh, my son," he hears her murmur around her tears as she cups Loki's face in her hands and looks over him, "So grown. So handsome. I have missed you so."

"I have missed you, Mother." Loki lowers his head so that she can press a blessing kiss to his forehead before she takes his hand and turns him to where Odin stands on the very top step before the great doors, looking every inch The Allfather, Gungnir proudly by his side, standing tall, the emotion unreadable on his stoic face. For a moment Thor feels a concern he's never felt when it comes to his father and his brother. All of their lives Odin has made it very clear that he adores both of his sons. Thor has no idea why he seems so closed off to Loki now on his return when he has been preparing for it so enthusiastically. Odin lifts Gungnir and allows the echoing sound of it meeting The Citadel's golden steps to silence the chattering of the Aesir gathered to welcome home their second prince. The hush falls quickly and Thor can see the nerves on Loki's face as he grips their mother's hand.

"Loki Odinson," Odin's voice is strong and gruff, "You have returned to Asgard after these many years of training to hone your talents and warrior's skills. Do you swear that you will use all you have learned, all you have become, for the protection of Asgard and, indeed, all of the realms?"

"I swear," Loki says quietly, nearly a whisper, then louder when Frigga squeezes his hand encouragingly, "I swear!"

"And do you swear your fealty anew to the throne of Asgard and the peoples the throne protects, wherever in the realms they may be found?"

"I so swear!"

"Loki Odinson…I hereby present you this spear, forged by dwarves in the heat and promise of a new star. It is the spear of Earth, Darradrnir. May it be a loyal and true companion to only you in your defense and serving of the realms and the throne."

Loki's eyes are wide and wondering as Odin bids him forward with a gentle hand. It takes a soft nudge to his shoulder from Frigga before he moves up the stairs slowly, as if in a dream. Thor closes his eyes for just a moment to remember the moment when their father granted him Mjolnir, just before Loki left to train on Jotunheim. It was the proudest moment of his life to be granted so powerful a weapon in front of his friends, his mother, his brother. Proof of his might in battle, his growth as a prince of the realm. He'd been as dazzled by the weapon that has become so much a part of him as Loki looks now as their father hands him the short spear. Thor has not seen it before now and he admires the wicked curve of the blade, the large jewel set into the ornate staff. Loki looks up hopefully for some reason that Thor doesn't understand and feels his eyebrow lift when Odin nods with a small smile. Thor feels his breath catch when Loki holds his free hand over the jewel and murmurs some words under his breath. The power that seems to flow from Loki's hand and into the jewel can be felt from where Thor is standing and he is sure the people gathered behind him can feel it as well. The power coming from Loki's hand is visible as a green light and by the time Loki has completed whatever he is doing the jewel is glowing like the most beautiful, ethereal emerald. The gathered crowd begins to cheer as Loki completes the spell and lifts the spear high above his head with something akin to a battle cry. Thor feels the grin stretch across his face and turns to see an echoed expression across Lady N'Daia's fierce face. For the first time he feels how tight her hand is on his arm and he covers it with his free hand in a show of solidarity before all gathered. He turns back when he hears Loki cry out for their father and feels the moisture gather in his eyes when he sees his father and Loki embracing tightly as a single tear makes it's way from Odin's eye and into his beard.

He barely hears the "Welcome home, my son," from Odin above the cheering of the gathered.

Loki is clinging to their father like a child and obviously feeling no shame as he tucks his face against Odin's neck, "Thank you, Father. It is good to be home."

"Come!" Odin pulls back from the embrace after a moment, "We will feast in your honor. Queen N'Daia, we are gladdened to welcome you as an honored guest."

"I thank you, Odin King."

Thor is not upset when Lady N'Daia releases his arm to link her own with his mother's. They have been great friends since Asgard re-opened relations with Jotunheim and Thor is secure enough to admit that Lady Quenn of Jotunheim has ever intimidated him. He follows behind his father and Loki and his mother and Queen N'Daia at the fairly sedate pace that the others are walking at. He wants, more than anything, to speak at length with his brother as they would have done had their ride to the palace been just the two of them, but Loki is walking close to their father, their heads close as they speak with animation and enthusiasm. Thor is grateful that his parents allowed him to greet Loki, but he wants more time with him. He has missed him fiercely.

As soon as Odin officially greets all gathered and begins the banquet, all of Loki's favorite foods and much mead and ale, Sif and Hogun take Loki's attentions. Thor can hardly blame them. They have ever been Loki's closest friends, since the youngest of ages. A trio of…not quite misfits, not truly…but those who do not quite fit the old, outdated ideal of an Asgardian warrior. The Lady Sif, the first young woman to take it upon herself to be, not a shield maiden, but a true warrior of the realm. And Hogun, the quiet Vanir sent to train because he far outstripped the warriors on his own planet. Hogun and Loki have ever been studious and intense, quiet. Their combined control over their tempers is legendary and has been noted since they were children. Their friendship was no surprise to anyone. It was the addition of Sif into their private little circle that came as a surprise. She is often, and was as a child, brash and loud, feeling that she has to prove herself to those who surround her at every turn. Quick to anger, quicker to avenge a perceived slight. Her parents had despaired of ever teaching her to be a lady, and barring that, a useful warrior. But, when Loki and Hogun invited her into their midst everything seemed to settle. (Thor isn't too proud to admit that his pride and ego prevented himself from doing it as a child.) Loki and Hogun level Sif and she pushes them out of their comfort zones. Thor has no doubt at all in his mind or heart that they will quickly become the inseparable trio they have always been. This belief strengthens when, as the evening wears on and there is a pleasant haze to everything around him, he sees Loki sitting on the floor, leaning against Hogun's knees. Sif has draped herself against Loki's side, more than a little drunk. Hogun plays absent-midedly with her long dark hair as he stares into his cup as if it holds the secrets of all the realms. Loki and Sif are laughing together, then she snuggles even more closely and lays her head on his shoulder.

Thor feels a tightening in his chest that he has never felt before. Of course, he has been aware of Sif's skill for many years. She is one of the only warriors of the realm who can best him. He has never seen her sex as making her weaker or less capable than himself. But, it is only recently that he has become aware of her great beauty. Her pale skin, her bright eyes, somewhere between his own blue and Loki's green, and the beautiful, lush hair that he longs to grip in his fingers as he pulls her head back and takes her mouth in a battle of an entirely different kind. He has never felt jealousy when it comes to his brother. Even with all of his magic Thor has never wanted to be Loki, has always been comfortable in his own skin. The jealousy in his chest as Loki embraces Sif does not sit well and he grabs another tankard of ale as a servant, nearly as drunk as the guests, passes. To ease the green monster in his chest he downs the tankard and throws it to the floor before grabbing a passing maid. She does not seem to mind being kissed senseless by the crown prince.

But, he finds that his heart is not in bedding her and after a time leaves her to the feast where he is sure she will find another bed partner. He walks into the cool night, onto the terrace, only to see his brother standing, bathed in moonlight, looking out over the city. And suddenly his petty jealously doesn't matter, all of the words he wanted to say, all of the questions, none of it matters. He steps up beside his brother and breathes in peace. He looks at Loki and smiles.

And Loki smiles back.

Then, they both begin to laugh.


	5. Chapter 5

All previous disclaimers apply.

Author's Note: So...Steve and Loki meet. It goes a little fast in this chapter. I promise, it will all be explained later and in the coming chapters there will be more than just sex between them. There is method to my madness. Thanks for sticking with this.

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><p>"Brother!" Loki fights not to roll his eyes as he hears his brother call out to him as he and Sif make their way into what Loki believes Midgardians call a pub. Thor is either drunk off of the weak spirits they serve on Midgard or off of the atmosphere surrounding them. It could be either at this point. Midgardians are an incredible people, he must admit. There is a war on that is raging across a good percentage of their tiny planet and yet…And yet their spirits are high, their music is loud and wonderfully, ecstatically joyful. He has never heard such music. It has been nearly two hundred years since their father brought them to Midgard and the advances that have been made are simply incredible. Of course, they are nowhere near the might, the science and technology of Asgard, but the fact that they have come so far in such a short amount of time is testament to just how determined they are, just how much ingenuity they possess in the collective consciousness of their race.<p>

Loki is most impressed by them and their spirit. It has been an enlightening, thoroughly entertaining trip. He almost wishes that Hogun had deigned to join them, but he had decided to visit his family and Loki cannot blame him. He gets real time on Vanaheim only rarely. He does not regret the fact that Volstagg stayed behind as well. There is no way the large, boisterous man would be able to control himself around such frivolity. Beside the fact that the woman he should marry, his beautiful, blonde Valkyrie is nearing her time with his child and no one of them has any doubt that she will give birth to the babe, bundle him up to make the trip across the Bi-Frost, and kill Volstagg happily with the babe in one hand and her blade in the other if he misses the birth. He can only imagine what ridiculous brawls would be started if Thor were accompanied by both Volstagg and Fandral. As it is Thor and Fandral have been having enough "fun" for a dozen Asgardian warriors on their leisurely journey to Midgard.

Sif stiffens next to him and Loki pats her hand companionably where it has tightened on his arm. He wishes, not for the first time, that Thor were more observant. As tough, as much of a warrior as Sif is, inside beats a heart that is as soft and yearning as any creature. He cannot comprehend why, but she has set that tender heart on Thor, and seeing him with drunken mortals hanging off of his arms, doing their level best to entice him into their beds, is doing nothing for her confidence as a woman. Loki raises his hand to Thor in greeting before pulling Sif close in this Midgardian era's style of dance and rolling his eyes dramatically. He is happy to see the small smile on Sif's face at his action.

"Oaf can't even hold this piss that they call ale," she murmurs, almost fondly.

"Ah, but he wouldn't be nearly so charming if he could," Loki smiles and spins her away from his body, pleased to hear her deep, smoky laughter before he spins her back in and leers, "You look ravishing this night, my lady. These mortal fashions do suit you so."

"Remove your wandering hand, Loki, or I shall remove it from your arm."

Loki laughs at the sweetness in her Sif's tone and the fire in her eyes before patting her backside affectionately and moving his hand back to the more socially acceptable small of her back.

"Perhaps we can make Thor jealous enough to act, hmm?" He murmurs as he pulls her close, speaking lowly in her ear.

"He will not act when he believes you interested in courting and bedding me, Loki," she sighs, "He's much too noble for that."

"Me?" Loki pulls back again, startled. As much as he had always felt a connection and kinship with Sif, the idea of courting her, of loving her in any manner other than that of a sister, is simply so absurd that he throws his head back and laughs long and loud. After a moment Sif joins him with a cascade of giggles that she tries to keep behind her hand. When she snorts inelegantly they both laugh all the harder, until they are leaning on each other to remain upright. Neither of them is conscious of the eyes on them until Thor and Fandral flank them.

"Why this mirth, friends?" Fandral asks.

"Thinking that any person would assume my interests in bed partner lie in the beauty that Sif holds when I much prefer the ruggedness of someone more like…" He looks his friend up and down with a grin, "Well, more like yourself, Fandral."

"Well, of course you prefer someone more like me," Fandral purrs smoothly as he slips an arm around Loki's waist, "I'm much more of a catch than Sif."

He is just drunk enough, apparently, that he thinks it a fine idea to pull Loki in, dip him backwards, and kiss him lavishly to within an inch of his life. For just a moment Loki closes his eyes and allows himself to wonder why he and Fandral have never had a tumble. He is obviously an explosive lover if his kiss is anything to go by. His reputation is well-deserved. It is only when Loki opens his eyes that he remembers why it is he has never allowed himself to take his pleasure with Fandral. His friend is leering open-eyed at the women in the room even as he kisses Loki like a condemned man. Loki's eyes dart to the men in the room. Most of them simply look shocked as they gaze upon something that is not yet socially acceptable on Midgard. A few look amused, but there are a growing number of them who look angry. Those are the ones who wear uniforms, like the ones that Loki has conjured for himself, Fandral, and Thor. It is the anger that Loki wishes to avoid. They are all so much stronger than these mortals and he would rather not have to hurt any of them. If there is a scuffle their father will never let them visit Midgard for holiday again. And it is such fun. He rights himself and pushes Fandral away with a dramatic sound of disgust as he wipes his mouth. Sif catches on as Fandral stumbles in her direction and she takes him in her arms.

"You missed, you drunk," She murmurs before kissing him with as much passion as is in her strong, beautiful body. Fandral, for his part, seems to catch on to the farce and dips Sif even deeper than he dipped Loki, closing his eyes and kissing her as just as lavishly, perhaps more. The tense atmosphere begins to lift as people begin to laugh, then breaks completely when Fandral lifts Sif, looks directly at Loki, and slurs drunkenly, "Your sister is the much better kisser."

Loki can tell Fandral is playing up the drunkenness and he is glad for it. There is plenty that Midgardians will dismiss as too much drink.

"Perhaps it is time to take our leave from this particular gathering," Loki murmurs to Thor. His brother has never been particularly astute when it comes to behavior, but he seems to understand the tension in Loki and nods, playing into the farce as he wraps Fandral's arm around his shoulder and laughs with him as they all stumble from the pub. Sif puts her arm through Loki's again as they walk, silently following the boisterous noise that Thor and Fandral make as they search for a new place of merriment. The walk in the cool evening air is relieving after the brief press of too many bodies. He has ever been a solitary individual, after all. He prefers his own company and the company of a select few to large gatherings. Even on Asgard he can only attend a large celebration feast for so long before he becomes claustrophobic. Being among so many mortals is even more difficult, but they are all here for Thor.

"He seems to be relaxing," Sif's small smile is a beauty to behold, secretive and sweet, it curls in just the corner of her mouth. Loki has only seen her smile like that when she is thinking of Thor. He wants to tell her that he knows of her love for his brother. And it is love. He has no doubt. But, he will never damage her pride that way. He knows it would only embarrass her to have someone, even himself, point out what she sees as a weakness.

"He does not say it aloud," Loki muses, "But, I know that Father's proclamation has been weighing heavily on him."

"The Allfather has only made it known that he will hand over rule to Thor within a century. Why allow himself to be concerned with it now?"

"He feels he will not make a good leader for the nine realms. He has been more…contemplative since my return from Jotunheim, more introspective. I believe he is looking within and, quite wrongly, not appreciating what he sees. He is a leader of men. They trust him. His tactical mind far outstrips that of the Allfather, our mother, perhaps even myself. He has the hearts of the people. He must trust himself and take the next century for what it is. An opportunity to learn all he can from Father. He will be a fine king. Perhaps the finest king Asgard and all the realms have ever seen."

"And you, Oh Silvertongue?" Sif leans her head against his shoulder briefly, "No desire for a throne yourself? You have the hearts of the people as well. The men trust you to lead them in to battle just as they do Thor."

"I have never wanted the throne, Sif," he says quietly, "I have only ever wanted to serve honorably, my father and my brother. Let them keep the heartache of ruling."

"I know, my dearest one," Sif presses a rare, sweet kiss to his cheek, "What I said was meant to be in jest." She pauses for a moment and her head cocks to the side like a bird, listening intently. He has seen her do this many times on the battlefield and tenses in anticipation as she casually brushes the long curls of her hair away from her neck. To any other it would seem a gesture with no meaning, but Loki knows better. He knows she takes in more in the brief moments her head is angled to the rear that most would if a full mark.

"Foe?" He asks quietly.

"I do not believe so," Her smile has transformed into a smirk, "He seems more curious than angry and he comes alone. He's well built. Attractive enough for a mortal, I suppose," She squeezes his arm where her hand rests on it and smiles, "Have your fun, Loki, but try not to wear him too badly. There is a war on, after all."

Loki's answering grin is mischievous and carefree and makes Sif laugh as she pulls away and lengthens her stride to catch up to Thor and Fandral, who are laughing and singing an Asgardian drinking song out of key purposefully. He smiles down at the pavement as he kneels and pretends to re-lace his Midgardian boots.

"You have been following," he says quietly when he senses the other is close enough to hear, " If it is to make trouble than I suggest we both simply walk away now."

"I don't want any trouble," The voice is sweetly naïve in some ways, steel under velvet in others and Loki shivers with it, "I…I was just…"

"Curious?"

"Yeah."

Loki smiles at the word and stands, turning around to meet the bluest eyes he has ever seen. Bluer even than Thor's or his mother's. It is the eyes that decide him on bedding the man. The eyes that are so very blue and so very good, earnest in every look. Just like the voice they are naïve in some ways, so very strong in others. It is after he has already made the decision to take the man in front of him that he takes a look at the rest of him. His breath catches at the prefect beauty before him. The sandy hair, the golden skin all perfectly packaged in an olive green uniform that only serves to make Loki want to pull it off to reveal the trim form beneath. The man is built like Thor, but the smooth cheek makes Loki imagine a completely hairless chest and he has to restrain himself to keep from licking his lips. It won't due to remind the beauty in front of him of his own peoples views and perhaps frighten him away from what may be an intensely enjoyable evening for them both.

"What, pray tell, are you curious about, soldier?"

"Captain…" The man says sheepishly, a flattering blush heating his cheeks and neck. Loki cocks his head.

"Captain," he repeats, "Do you always identify yourself by your rank?"

"No."

Loki half expects him to starts shuffling his feet from the way his head lowers and the blush intensifies. He is innocent and absolutely adorable, Loki decides.

"My best friend says it's more impressive to use my title. Apparently Captain America has some pull."

"Captain America?" Loki likes the taste of the name in his mouth.

"You…You don't know who I am?" Those eyes are bright and hopeful.

"I am afraid not, Captain." Loki inclines his head in deference to the title, a little mocking in a playful manner.

"That's…That's really refreshing actually. I…my name is Steven Rogers. Most people call me Steve."

"I find I prefer Steven," Loki smiles his most charming smile and holds out his hand in the fashion he has seen the Midgardian men use. He is pleasantly aware of the man's, Steven's, pulse pounding away when their hands meet. He allows his finger to extend and caress the pulse point and is pleased when Steven's intake of breath is audible and his pupils dilate noticeably. It is going to be a joy to have this responsive man in his bed and he can imagine only too well what it is going to feel like to have his legs wrapped around that trim waist as he is pounded into, "I am Loki."

"Like the Norse god?" Steven asks, surprising him. Most mortals have not spoken of those old legends in many years.

"Just so," He inclines his head with a smile, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Steven Rogers. What questions can I answer for you?"

"You just…when that other guy was…kissing you. You both played it off like a joke, but you…you both really seemed to be…"

"Enjoying it?" Loki asks quietly. The averted gaze is enough to tell Loki he is correct, "We were enjoying it, Steven," he says gently, "Where Fandral and I were raised it is no stranger to see a same sex couple than a woman and a man."

"But, that's not the way it is here," Steven says quietly.

"No," Loki agrees, then moves closer so that he is in Steven's personal space. The good captain does not step back, "But, that doesn't mean that what we feel is wrong, Steven."

"We…" Steven's head snaps up, mouth slightly open in shock. Loki takes advantage and, after a quick look around to confirm there is no one to see them, presses closer, wrapping his arm around Steven's waist and pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. He runs his tongue gently over Steven's upper lip before pulling back slightly, but keeping his hand splayed on Steven's hip. Just a taste and he is already burning for more, feeling himself harden. Steven tastes like light and innocence and barely controlled passion. Loki has never felt such electricity from such an innocent overture. He is hard to the point of pain and can think of nothing he wants more at that moment than Steven buried inside of him as soon and as often as possible.

He has never felt this way about any lover and for a moment he wonders what is happening to him. His body is heating and his heart pounding before they have even begun. He decides to take a step back, to catch his breath, but makes the mistake of looking at Steven. His pupils are blown wide in hungry eyes. And his expression…he looks like a man who has long been denied his hearts desire and has finally found it. Loki's breath catches again and he yearns to press Steven against the wall and rut against him, but something in his mind is still working. He knows that if a Midgardian were to catch them in a compromising position it could potentially be very bad for Steven. And he cannot let anything happen to Steven. That would simply be…unacceptable.

"Do you have someplace private…away from prying eyes?" Loki whispers.

"They put my team up in a boarding house." Steven says, "My room in the only one on the floor."

Loki feels almost giddy as they rush through the streets. He has to force himself not to reach out for Steven. It is still not safe. He can tell that Steven feels the same way from the way he forces his twitching hands away from Loki a dozen times as they nearly run to the boarding house. They both giggle in unmanly fashion as they stumble up the stairs to the highest floor, where the captain has taken a converted attic for his own. Loki manages to keep his hands off of the beautiful man as he makes his way around the room, closing the heavy curtains and lighting candles. Loki would rather that this, their first coupling be in brighter light so that he may see his partner, but he understand these wartime measures.

When Steven makes his way back to Loki to reach behind him and lock the door everything seems to slow. Loki allows Steven to push him against the door and cover his body entire with his own. They are nearly even matched in height, Steven may just be slightly taller, and so their desires line to each other. But, there is no immediate need to see to their desires, though Loki can feel that Steven is as hard as he is. The most pressing need is to feel how Steven presses him against he door, holding him there with a strength that a mortal should not possess. Loki wraps one arm around Steven's waist to pull him in as close as he can, then uses the other to interlock their fingers. Steven's free hand comes to rest above both their heads in the door and he leans in as if trying to make them one presence. For a moment they are simply together, breathing each other in, breath mingling. Loki has the strangest urge to breathe Steven's scent in and he doesn't stop himself. He lowers his face to Steven's neck where is joins his shoulder and breathes deeply, taking in his scent. It brings a heady euphoria upon him and he smiles before placing his lips just to Steven's pulse point.

"Oh, god," Steven murmurs, and Loki can feel his hips press just that much harder, "I…I've never done anything like this before."

"Not even with a woman?" Loki asks quietly.

"No," Steven answers honestly without hesitation.

"Steven…" Loki frees the hand he has wrapped around Steven's waist and cups the beautiful face in it. He draws Steven's face to his own and waits patiently until Steven closes the distance and their lips meet once more. The electricity is still there and it stokes the fire within him. He coaxes Steven's tongue out gently and encourages it to mingle with his own, teaching Steven even as he takes. Steven is a quick study and before long his kisses are leaving Loki breathless. He kisses like a drowning man and Loki has never been more swept away. For a long while all they do is kiss, leaning heavily into each other and letting each other simply be. It has been a long time since Loki has done anything of the kind and he finds that he misses it. He has forgotten over the years that sometimes the most arousing thing can be a simple kiss. He will not forget it again.

But, even as he revels in the kisses his body is demanding more in a way it never has before. He presses Steven back slightly and smiles at his disappointed pout on his flawless face. It only takes a moment for the pout to fade when he begins to undress Steven, starting with the formal jacket. Steven reaches out to loosen the tie at his throat when Loki does the same to him. They undress each other slowly, letting the clothing fall to the floor, until they are both bare. He takes a moment to admire Steven's perfection in the candlelight.

"Epic poetry should be written about your perfection," he murmurs.

"Not so bad yourself," Steven says quietly, "I…I don't know what to do."

"I'll teach you," Loki promises.

The bed is small, but fits them perfectly as Loki teaches Steven about making love to another man. There will be time, he thinks, for other kids of passion, the passion that he thought they would have when he was first to bed Steven. There will be time for throwing each other down and taking until neither of them can see straight. There will be time for hurried, hidden trysts. Because Loki does plan on there being more than one time. He came to Midgard for Thor. He will stay for Steven. There is something in him, some corner of his mind and his heart that he has never accessed, that is demanding that he be with Steven as long as he can. He talks Steven through preparing him using a lotion that he has on hand, wishing for Asgardian oil. When Steven has entered him and they are moving together he knows that it is the closest to Valhalla that he has ever been. He holds Steven as tightly as he dares and feels the tears in his eyes as the pleasure builds to blinding heights. There are tears in Steven's eyes as well and Loki wipes them away.

"I don't…" Steven pants, "I can't…"

"Together," Loki whispers.

When they fall, they fall together, crying their release into each other's mouths to muffle their sounds. When it is all over Steven lays his head on Loki's chest and Loki holds him as he falls asleep. Something fundamental has changed, he knows it as he watches the candlelight dance. Something has shifted inside him, though he can't name why or how. He looks down at Steven's peaceful face, feels his heart beat, hears his soft breath and knows that he will devote his time on Midgard to protecting this man. The life of a mortal is so brief, so very brief, but he will make Steven's as long and as fruitful as possible.

"What is it about you?" He asks quietly, but Steven sleeps on.

At least it is the middle of a war. If he is going to devote his time and energies to a Midgardian, at least he will have the opportunity for some fun. He smiles and presses a kiss to Steven's forehead before allowing himself to close his eyes and, for the first time in the presence of someone outside of his family, sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**All previous disclaimers apply.**

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. Please let me know what you think if you have a moment. If it seems a little disjointed it was intentional, but I'm not sure how well it came across. Thanks so much!**

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><p>"You're somewhere far away," Steve whispers as they lay together in the dying light of a single candle, "Where are you?"<p>

Loki stops tracing idle patterns on Steven's strong chest at the words and contemplates for a moment before he answers. In the short seven months he has been at Steven's side there have not been nearly enough of these quiet moments when they can simply be together. In fact, Loki can count them on just one hand. Since that first night when he and Steven laid together and consummated what Loki now has no doubt is love, they have constantly been near each other, but Loki can only sigh at how limited their actual contact has been. It is a strange, unenlightened place he has found himself, that he cannot simply touch, kiss, or hold the man he loves at his leisure, but he understands why he cannot, why they cannot. The Midgardians are a young race and they have not yet come to the realizations that Asgard has. They will. He has seen it over and over again in individuals. They will someday realize their skin colors, their many religions, their sexual preferences are not reasons to keep them apart, but rather different points of view to be celebrated. But, it does not make his time here any easier. There have been many times, after a mission gone wrong, after a particularly difficult raid where they find more corpses than live bodies, that Loki wants nothing more than take Steven in his arms, stroke his hair and allow them both to find comfort in each others bodies. But, he cannot. He will not force Steven to choose between his love for Loki and the work that is so important to him, even if he would take Steven to Asgard in a second and present him before his parents as his chosen mate in a heartbeat if Steven gave him even a moments belief that he would be happier there. He is learning to deal with the difficulty though, the difficulty of being able to offer Steven less public comfort than even his best friend, Sergeant Barnes, is allowed to.

It is why he risked ruining it all, knowing that Steven might reject him, to save Barnes' life earlier that day. The train was supposed to be easy. Too easy. They all should have seen the trap coming. Schmidt is getting desperate to take Steven down, they all know it. It is better, of course, that he focus his efforts on Captain America so that he doesn't see what the others on the same team are doing, their own strengths, but it doesn't make it any easier to let Steven be the target. Every battle they fight is a trial in split focus for Loki, keeping one eye on his own battle and one eye on Steven's. He'd almost missed the explosion that tore the side of the train car off, almost missed pushing Barnes out of the way and being forced out the door by the concussive impact of the last attack. It was only his desperation not to be gone from Steven's life that had him using magic to force his body back onto the mangled metal. He would have survived the fall, of course, but Steven wouldn't have known that and it all would have been over. He is fairly certain that Barnes had seen the magic that surrounded him like a green smoke, but so far he has said nothing. He nodded in understanding when Steven had pulled Loki back in and held him tightly as they both crouched on the floor of the train. Loki hadn't expected the kiss, but he'd been so grateful to be with Steven still he'd accepted the delicious, hard, life-affirming kiss that Steven gave him right in front of Barnes. And Barnes only gave that little smirk that always irks Loki so. Loki is going to have to rethink his position of disliking the man.

"Loki?" Steve asks again.

"Hmm?" Loki murmurs, then takes a deep breath, "I'm sorry, Steven. What did you say?"

"I was just wondering where you were," Steven says gently, tilting Loki's face up so that he can fit their mouths in a tender kiss.

"Mmm," Loki moans into the kiss, "I was just thinking about home, I suppose."

"You never talk about your home," Steven says.

"I actually had a…message from my father a few days ago," Loki says contemplatively, "He wants me to return home."

The message actually came via Thor, in the middle of the night while a battle raged around them. They had their fun as they fought, but Thor was serious when he told Loki that their father wants him home. Nearly a year spent on Midgard, while not as long as some holidays the royal family takes, seems excessive to their father. What can possibly be keeping Loki's attention? His mother misses him and his grandmother is becoming overbearing. It makes Loki smile to think of his strong father, so cowed by the strong women in his life. Not that Loki can blame him. Frigga and N'Daia are formidable and he will never wish to be on the side against them. But, he cannot leave Steven. Just the idea of it is so abhorrent that he feels ill every time the thought crosses his mind. It is like an ache in his chest that he has never felt before. Thor will put off their father a little longer at Loki's request. It is hard to resist Thor when he gives the looks he'd given Loki, all wide, guileless eyes and turned down mouth, but Loki will resist as much of his brother's attempted guilt as he must to remain by Steven's side.

"I am…something of a noble in my homeland. My father is…highly respected. My parents and my grandmother do not think that I should be here in the middle of a war that I should not have involved myself in at all to begin with."

"The whole world's at war," Steven says gently, cupping Loki's bare hip in his large hand and rubbing gently, "Surely they understand you wanting to help."

"My home has always been…isolated…and they feel as if we should not involve ourselves in the affairs of mor…those beyond its borders."

"You don't say half of what you mean, Loki," Steven whispers against his forehead, and Loki tenses. What if Steven has decided that he is no longer worth his hidden truths? "Maybe some day you'll tell me your secrets."

"Steven…"

"Loki," Steven cups his face and tilts his chin so that they can meet each other's eyes, "I'm not trying to make you tell me anything at all. I love you. With all of your secrets, all of your mystery I love you. And I don't want you any other way. I just hope that one day you'll trust me enough to give me all of you."

"I trust you with as much of me as I can, Steven," Loki whispers, spreading his body over Steven's, "I trust you with my life."

"And I trust you with mine," Steven smiles that smile that always causes the muscles in Loki's stomach to clench. He kisses Steven then with everything he has, everything he is, and they make love. It is all soft sighs and reverent touches. Their fingers link above Steven's head as Loki moves his hips and takes Steven inside of him. Nothing is hurried. Nothing is frantic. Their words are whispers of adoration and devotion and as they move together Steven kisses their linked hands and presses his free hand to Loki's chest, just above his heart.

"Steven," Loki gasps.

"I love you," Steven responds, "Forever, Loki. I love you."

"I love you," Loki sobs, "For all eternity, my darling."

He pushes hair away from Steven's beautiful eyes and takes in a gasping breath as they fall over the edge of pleasure together. Afterwards as they lay together in the cool darkness, they speak for hours. Steven speaks of the dreams he has for them after the war. As much as he loves Brooklyn he knows they will never be safe there. He speaks of a farm upstate where they are far enough away from others that they never think to questions two young bachelors living together for so long. He does not mention the fact that the government that considers him their belonging will never let him go. Loki does not mention it either. Steven's dreams are beautiful and Loki finds himself wrapped up in them. A simple life, helping things grow, crops and children. It is not a life that would satisfy either of them, he knows, but it is a dream that gives him peace.

Steven falls asleep first and Loki weaves a simple spell around them both so that they may share their dreams. As they sleep they have their farm, not in Midgard, but in Asgard. The dreamscape makes Steven comfortable with the change in atmosphere and their life is as beautiful as they spoke it. They enjoy the work. Loki uses his magic freely to help things grow and they see their children. A boy first with Steven's beautiful eyes and golden coloring, but Loki's dark hair and ability for magic. Then a girl, still with Steven's eyes. All of their children have his eyes, but their daughter also gets the golden blonde hair. It is stunning with Loki's pale coloring. Then their youngest, another boy, almost an exact replica of Steven himself. They are a family and they are happy. So very happy.

In the morning, as they prepare themselves in the pre-dawn light for the assault on Schmidt's mountain fortress they are both calm, centered, and at peace. They kiss a final time before they join the others, once again the consummate professionals they've been in front of every other living soul the entire time they've known each other.

"Please be safe, my darling," Loki whispers as they begin their attack. And Steven smiles at him.

The battle is something he remembers in brief flashes, like one of the films Steve is so fond of that has come off of its reels. He comes to the realization that the weapons are the result of he Tesseract. He's suspected before, of course, but it is finally confirmed when he sees the gigantic ship that The Red Skull has built. Only Asgardian technology can create such a thing. He and Steve very nearly don't make it onto the plane as it takes off and as they fight the ridiculous weapons that Zola managed to create Loki is forced to use his powers. And he and Steven fight as if Steven has always known. Loki reflects his powers off of Steven's shield and Steven throws it at him as if he has always known that Loki has the strength to catch it. Steven's bright, mad war smile is reflected by Loki's right until the moment that they reach The Red Skull's cockpit. The man's absolute madness makes him a formidable foe. Loki sheds his mortal costuming in favor of his Asgardian armor.

And it is when he is focused on protecting Steve and taking the Tesseract from the Skull that a nearly dead Hydra agent fires at him from behind. The ammunition powered from the Tesseract does not immediately destroy him as it does the humans. But, he has never known such pain as it tears through his chest, setting his lungs on fire and stopping his breath at the agony. He hears Steven cry out in grief, watches through hazy eyes as the Tesseract makes quick work of Schmidt.

"Loki," Steven takes him in his arms, "Loki, no. Stay with me."

"The weapons will destroy a city, Steven," Loki forces as he attempts to breathe. Something becoming more and more difficult, "Many will die."

"No," Steven's voice is grim, "Just us. Together."

"Together," Loki smiles a bloody smile.

Steven carries him to the pilot's chair, holds him close and kisses him through the blood. Their linked hands force the plane down and they do nothing but gaze into each other's eyes as it goes down. Just before they hit the ice Loki closes his eyes and lays his head on Steven's strong chest, listening to his heart beat.

And then he knows no more.


	7. Chapter 7

**All previous disclaimers apply.**

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><p>"Heimdal!" Thor chokes around the sea water attempting to make its way into his lungs as he struggles against the freezing water trying to still his limbs, his heavy armor and cape trying to force him under, and the weight of his brother limp against his shoulder, "Heimdal, open the Bi-Frost!"<p>

The familiar weightless feeling is the greatest relief of all his days as he holds tight to Loki with both arms. His brother is so pale, so lifeless, that Thor would swear there was no hope if he could not feel the sluggish heartbeat, growing slower every moment. Unless they get to the healing rooms and their mother's magic quickly his brother will be lost. And even if they manage to heal his body and save his life Thor is not entirely certain that he will not be lost to them. Loki has had many bed partners, many loves, but Thor has never seen him the way he was with the mortal captain. Thor regrets that he could not pull the good captain up, but it was all he could do to get Loki above the water without drowning them both and the mortal man had already been encased in some sort of ice cocoon. Thor hadn't been able to break it before the need to breathe and the panic to save his brother's life overtook him.

He cannot feel guilty for it as he calls Mjolnir to him as soon as he reaches the Bi-Frost room and is flying toward the palace with his ashen brother in his arms as fast as he possibly can. He causes quite a stir among the court as he bursts into the hall calling for his mother and healers.

"Oh my darling boy!" His mother gasps as she sees Loki for the first time. Thor watches the change come over her as she goes from mother to healer in an instant, calling magic to her to massage Loki's failing heart in his chest to keep it beating as the other healers continue to work around her.

She demands that someone be sent to fetch Queen N'Daia, but Thor cannot move. He can only keep his eyes on his brother's pale lifeless face. He does not know if it is minutes or hours before his father places a hand on his shoulder and they stand vigil together. Queen N'Daia comes in as the healers work and throws her magic in with Frigga's, both of them using all they have to save the one they love so much.

Thor feels his knees go weak when finally Frigga turns to them both and nods, a small smile on her face. He falls to the floor sobbing and is unsurprised and grateful when his mother joins him and holds him in her arms.

"From this day forward," Odin says quietly, moving toward the son he nearly almost lost, sitting on the edge of healing bed and taking one of Loki's limp hands to press a kiss to the back of it, "Midgard is closed to us. I will not chance the loss of one of my sons to their barbarism again."

Thor watches his brother breathing, so slowly, and nods his head in agreement.


End file.
